Red Hell
by absolutelycrazydiamond
Summary: Sarany battles the average females high school experience; a sexually abusive father, self harm addiction, true love, powerful friendship and an occasional ability to control heat and create fire. This story can be triggering: describing rape, depression and cutting and will contain Kouga/OC, Sesh/OC, OC/OC and canon relationships as well. Please please please leave reviews!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I own some but not most characters. All characters featured in the Inuyasha series are property of Rumiko Takahashi.

Prologue: 2002

_The room should be empty. It isn't. _

_I can feel the wet heat of either sweat or blood dripping from my hair down to the bones of my neck, pooling and trickling and staining my clothes and maybe my skin. _

_Daddy is on the ground, his head painted red and clothes torn. I'm sure I'll never forget this image. I can't remember what I ate this morning or how old I am or what my own name is but I'm sure I will never remember this sight. _

_Uncle Kaz is quiet, but close. Mummy is crying, but farther away. I'm under the guest bed that we have even though we never have guests because I know someone will come looking for me and pick me up and hold me over their shoulder and take me to the dark and cold place without any food. When Uncle Kaz stays over he doesn't stay in the guest room ever, he stays with Mummy and Daddy sleeps in my room and I sleep somewhere dark and cold and it takes a long time for them to come get me out and when they come get me Uncle Kaz is never there. I have only seen his face in bits, scary eyebrows and gray eyes like mine only chillier and lips like Daddies but never smiling. _

_Daddy has been on the ground before, with paint on his arm or his leg and Uncle Kaz stays nearby but quiet and Mummy stays far away but cries. When Daddy is on the ground he's in the dark and cold place with me, but when he moves or makes a noise Uncle Kaz pulls him back out of the dark and cold place. _

_But this time I don't think Uncle Kaz is going to put Daddy in the dark and cold place. I think he's going to leave him here with me and not give him any food because Daddy doesn't need it anymore. I don't know if I'll get any more food either, if Uncle Kaz never leaves. And Mummy will keep on crying and eventually I'll be put in the dark and cold place and then I'll disappear from the dark and cold place and go somewhere else where it's darker but hot and red. _

_Now Uncle Kaz is coming into the room and I'm going farther under the bed so that he can't see me. But he knows I'm in here because he's opening the wardrobe cabinets and moving pillows over me and now his chilly eyes are looking at me from the square that isn't black or black where I could see Daddies body a second ago and his hand is moving around close to me. His hand's wrapped around my hair and he's pulling and it feels like my head is being torn in half and my eyes might fall out of my head but I wont move so he takes his hand back and now I can see that it was blood dripping down my neck bones and staining my clothes and probably skin. His eyes get smaller, angrier and chillier and his hand disappears then comes back clean of blood and this time it wraps around my wrist and he pulls me back out from under the bed. _

_His arms are around me and he's rocking me and whispering "It'll be ok It's all ok You're safe now You're going to be happy now I'll take better care of you then that bad man ever did I'm your real Daddy baby and you'll never have to hide again" and I don't believe him. _


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own some but not most characters. All characters featured in the Inuyasha series are property of Rumiko Takahashi.

Chapter One: 2013 (Present Day)

There's no easy way to start this. I woke up today, the same as any other. Yet today I knew that it wasn't the same as yesterday. Today I have to meet people. Talk to people. Be around them and see them all around me listening to them speak about things that I don't know right now. It makes me shake to think about all those people in one place. Of me sitting in a classroom surrounded by 20 other people the same age as myself existing at the same time as me and hearing what I hear and seeing what I see, even if for a small period of time. At first I thought I was excited for this, but now I feel something I would assume is similar to seasickness.

Without anything else to do, I look in the mirror. Blue eyes. Nothing outstanding or unique, blue and empty. Pinkish red lips, I wonder what color lips are typically called. Apricot I suppose. Or cherry, if you're one of those girls. A square-like jaw, bones sticking out of my face from under my eyes under dark brown hair that falls in a curly sheet to cover my shoulders and part of my back. Prominent collarbones- sometimes desired in women but never in an animal. Strange that what the world considers sickly in any other creature is attractive in a human. My boniness should repel, and maybe it will. I'll know soon enough.

Fighting off the urge to do something unproductive, I moved into another room. Pavel's cries, though completely ignorable from my bedroom began to reverberate down the hallways until I felt overwhelming pity for the creature and went to check on him. His room was stark white from the wall to carpeted floor, with a sickly shade of tan painted onto the ceiling. Father only agreed to paint the ceiling when I brought up that the bright white may be painful for a newborn.

This was a lie- I'm pretty sure a newborns sight isn't developed enough to be hurt by any bright colors but I just wanted the thing to have some happy in his room. That was four years ago, and the kid's room still hasn't changed. The only difference is the furniture- a slightly larger bed in place of an unbalanced looking crib that I eventually removed the legs from so that it could sit more safely on the ground. The "changing table"; a fold-open card table that was to small for eating on, was also replaced by a white wardrobe with 3 drawers.

Standing in his room I watched Pavel lying in his bed crying for a few moments before closing the door and walking over to sit on the edge. I placed my hand on his side and sat for a bit, staring at his blank walls until colors formed in my eyes from lack of a distraction. I stood up, pulled a mechanical pencil from behind my ear and walked around Pavels bed until I reached the wall. Taking the end of the bed in my hands I pulled the bed away from the wall and sat on the edge again. Smiling at Pavel, who had sat up in begrudging interest, I began to sketch a wolves face. Kneeling down I continued to draw the neck and shoulders of the wolf while Pavel laughed and reached over to hug my shoulders. When I finished the drawing I stood and looked at Pavel.

"I can paint that for you after school tonight. I'll stop by the store and grab some bigger brushes, and maybe tomorrow I'll draw something else! You can have a mural by the weekend." Pavel grinned, then hesitated.

"I'd rather be going to school with you Saran, I don't wanna stay here alone. I can only make toast and I can't reach the peanut butter!"

"Next year, Pavel. And you shouldn't get too excited for it, hon. Remember how mummy told you this will be my first day in 2 years?"

"Why, Saran? Were you too smart? I hope I'm too smart." I grinned at Pavel's innocent sincerity, then realized that a long overdo story was about to come out. I twisted my hands together than took his left hand with my right.

"I hope you are too, sweet. But I wasn't too smart for school, I just wasn't ready for it."

_2010: _

"_I'm totally ready for this, mum! 7__th__ grade is the best grade; everyone says it. So that means it'll be the best grade to start off!" I bounced a little and swung mums left hand with my right._

"_Just breath, Sarany. Good things come to sweet girls, and you're a sweet girl. Don't be afraid to talk to new people, everyone's there to make friends and learn just like you. And no one will make you sad unless you let them do it." Her smile was thin and closed but her eyes were bright and sparkled._

Bright and sparkling. Pavel's eyes were filled with hope and they made me smile, remembering the hope I see in my mother's every once in a little while. I couldn't bring myself to tell the little flower the truth.

"You see Pavel, I went to 7th grade all prepared to learn and make new friends. But it turns out, not everyone there was ready for me. They noticed some of my differences and it made them nervous."

"Whose they?" Pavel asked, genuinely confused that someone may not like me.

"The student's, flower. Well not all of them- one in particular."

_Walking into the first class of the day I glanced at the tables thrown about the room: two chairs behind each. I chose a chair next to a girl with jet-black hair tied into to knots on top of her head. Of course, most girls in Japan had jet-black hair, and those who didn't had dark brown like me. But at the time all of the girls in school wore their hair in a single long ponytail down their back, and I thought this girl seemed creative and different._

"_I love your hair- it's really cute!"_

"_It's more then cute, flower. It's the new thing. I'm the new thing hon." _

_I don't like the way this girl called me 'flower'; it's a cute pet name but she says it as though she's trying to spit it out of her mouth as quickly as possible._

"_Oh, I didn't know that. Being a new thing must be fun though." I muttered the words quickly and quietly without making eye contact and proceeded to take my jacket off. The girl is staring at me. Knot girl is staring at me and I'm uncomfortable and I pull out my pencil case and begin to fiddle with different school supplies as students filed into the room around me. Finally the teacher walked in through a door by the blackboard and looked around the room. I began to shiver- there's a real teacher in front of me and I'm going to learn new things and take notes in my clean new notebooks with my new mechanical pencils and colored pens._

_Knot girl is raising her hand._

"But why wasn't everyone ready for you? I don't get it Sarany. Had she never seen blue eyes before?"

"Pavel lots of people have blue eyes! None are as pretty as yours', flower, but people all over the world have tons of different eye colors. Anyways, there was just one girl in particular that wasn't ready to be in classes with me. She thought I was a little bit too different, and she told other people how different I was."

"But how are you different Sarany?"

"Well, I make art honey. And they hadn't seen the kind of art I make before. They just weren't ready for it! So they told me to wait a year or two and try again, and that's what I'm dong today."

"I love your art Saran! I love my new wolf too." Pavel keeps me going every day; it's dumb stuff like this little 4 year old telling me he likes his new wolf that keeps me going. I can go to that fucking school and sit in a class and keep me to myself. I can do it.

_My hands shook and dropped the safety scissors in my hands, leaving a trail of blood on my palm and covering the floor tiles in tiny droplets of red. I heard distant screams and loud crying and sirens, but above all else one thing shone through my quickly blurring vision- partly caused by the faint nausea caused by the sight of blood and partly blurred by the tears streaming from my eyes. _

_A loosely knotted clump of black hair lying in a steadily increasing puddle. _


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own some but not most characters. All characters featured in the Inuyasha series are property of Rumiko Takahashi.

Chapter Two: 2013 (Present Day)

The school day began. It continues until the end and then it ends. After all of the anticipation, suspense and fear that I felt leading up to my first day of high school it seemed to flow rather smoothly. No one looked twice at me and I did my best to avoid looking at anyone at all. Perhaps due to my over-dramatic first experience with public school, I assumed I wouldn't make it through the first hour without getting in 3 fights, or hiding in the bathroom and crying through lunch. But apparently being socially inept is practically expected in high school freshman. Tons of people could be seen eating alone in the cafeteria, looking down in hallways and sticking to themselves. And thus, I drifted through my first week in a stupor- hardly feeling, rarely seeing and never listening.

My schedule is unnecessarily confusing; I have 7 different classes that rotate throughout the week called blocks "A" through "G". However, B day doesn't come after A day, F day does. Frankly that pisses me off but I try to ignore the letters and days and remember the order of classes. I have 5 classes a day along with a study period and lunch hour. I don't mind the schedule; it seems rather easy to fall into a routine this way and routine allows me to think less and keep myself busy. Both pluses.

Pavel asked if he could come to school with me each morning and I would narrate false tales of friendships spawned and difficult questions answered while making his dinner each night. My mothers work hours kept her at a comfortable distance and through what must be a gift of God my father has been on a business trip for the last two weeks.

Therefore the only interesting story I have to report is of my first day of work after two months. I've been working at a small sushi restaurant since I was 10, although at that age all I could manage was sweeping and loading the dishwasher for 500 yen an hour. Since then I have learned to bus tables, then to wait and finally to make sushi. At 1,100 yen an hour (above minimum wage) I couldn't ask for a better situation, even though the store is a 20-minute walk from my house. At least My boss gives me around 15 hours a week, which keeps me out of my house and gives me a steady enough income that I can keep me and Pavel going when we need to.

My boss is a large man who calls himself Yoko-san although there is no "Yoko" in his name. He's always said that his real name would be far to aggravating to shout around the store. He as straight black hair that he attempts to comb over his growing forehead and small slate gray eyes caught in a permanent squint. Essentially, if one were to search "stereotypical Japanese man" on the Internet they could probably find someone very closely resembling Yoko-san. His store is squeezed in between one of those Frozen yogurt stores that seems to be popping up everywhere with a big bubbly smiley character plastered on the windows and an old clothing store that has been under-construction for as long as I can remember.

Useless description aside I make my way to Yoko-sans store on Friday afternoon in a better mood than usual, excited to see Yoko-san again. Walking along the sidewalk feeling sun glisten off car and shop windows and onto my face, I can't see much of a reason to feel upset. Of course, this feeling never lasts but for now I enjoy the relaxation. I open the door to the shop and call "YOKO-SAN! IT'S SARAN!" I hear the _swing_ and **chunk** of a knife thrown into our corkboard, and Yoko-san thumps his way out of the kitchen and into the dining room, shoving the swinging door to the kitchen past him as though it was more air then solid. "SARANY" he bellows, throwing an arm out and grabbing my right hand in an aggressive shake. "Sarany" has become a sort of pet name for me from Yoko-san, who claims "Saran" is too cold for such an "adorable child". I've learned to stop fighting it.

"Hello Yoko-san! How was your holiday?" I ask, massaging my now-sore hand with the other while making my way over to the counter surrounding the kitchen door.

"LONG, Sarany! The relaxation was LOVELY but after a few weeks I got so BORED I started to make sushi for my Rudy until she couldn't TAKE it anymore and chased me around the house with a FRYING PAN can you imagine MAHAHAHA she was hysterical Sarany I just missed the business and of COURSE I missed seeing YOU EVERY DAY how was your FIRST day of school Sarany that was THIS WEEK wasn't it did you KNOCK THEM DEAD so to speak?" Yoko-san can hold a conversation for hours without much outside help, something I have always appreciated. A few buzz words could keep him going for long enough that I could get work done, and he was never boring. Of course I have to laugh at the "knock them dead" joke he through in there, and then I smile and begin to tell Yoko-san about my first week.

"Well the first day was boring as hell Yoko-san, I have to sit through three classes before English or Art and the next day I don't have either class! Psychology's pretty cool and Chemistry actually sucks way less then I though it would, but obviously Algebra and History are miserable and I have literally no patience for Health y'know?" I like to think I'm an introvert by choice, because around Pavel and Yoko-san I can talk an ear off like anybody else.

"Sarany I LOVE History and honestly YOU should too it's really quite FA-SCIN-ATING how old age politics worked and how EMPIRES FELL SARANY because they just FELL it was my favorite subject in high school and if I WENT to any sort of college I would BET YOU it would have been for History! Or OF COURSE cooking because I ALWAYS displayed culinary prowess I just thought History was SO radical mahahahaha."

"I don't know about radical Yoko-san but I'm glad you ended up here. Otherwise who would be paying me for 15 hours a week? Aha!" The contrast between our two laughs is great, Yoko-sans erupting from a deep place in his belly and mine whispering from the back of my throat. I've heard that the saddest people laugh the loudest, but sometimes that's just bullshit.

"WELL Sarany you know what to DO! Set all the tables for an hour and then make yourself some LUNCH because I know you my dear and you may have SLAVED over a meal for Pavel but I bet all you've eaten ALL DAY is half of a rice ball before school! HOP TO!" Of course he was right, I hadn't eaten since the rice ball I split with Pavel before running out the door on my way to class. I nod and begin to grab bundles of wrapped silverware from under the counter. I count 49 sets of silverware and begin walking around the store placing sets on tables. Returning to the counter I grab 13 small ceramic bowls designed to hold soy sauce and place them on each table as well. Such mundane tasks can't keep my mind from wandering and I begin to drift into a fog.

_2000:_

"_Not for you Saran that's too strong baby hush now"_

_Cold bottle heavy red paper cover_

"_Well maybe just one off my finger I guess taste buds wont never hurt anybody"_

_Salty drink thinner than mommy's brown drink spilling too much smells burny nose_

My first memory is a broken and faded one, but nonetheless the smell of soy sauce has always seemed so strong to me. Tasty with sushi and not terrible with noodles but altogether too pungent. I look away from the bottle and back down at the sushi I'm cutting.

_2006:_

_Mommy never took me to this place before, with the tall arches inside and silk on the walls. Everything smells weird and slimy and everybody is holding their chopsticks with only one hand. _

_We get walked to a wooden bench with itchy red pillows to sit on and I take my shoes off but Mommy laughs at me but she never laughs at me when I take my shoes off at home she usually tells me to._

_Mommy holds a bunch of paper stuck together and tells me it's a menu and tells a man that she tells me is a waiter what she wants to eat and I get to order a chocolate milk for myself by myself and when it comes in a big tall glass I get to pick a green straw and not a pink one from the waiters hand. _

_Mommy's food comes and it's all mushy looking and some of it's pink and some of it's sort of black and I can see rice and mushy green stuff and little orange dots and I say "Mommy that's gross can you ask for noodles?" and she says_

"_Saran this is sushi! It's very good and you wont get to eat it very often so enjoy it while you can!" And she puts the chopsticks in one hand for me but I change them back so I'm holding one in each hand and she puts a sushi on my plate and I pick it up and it falls apart but I scoop it into my mouth and it's super tasty and my new favorite food forever. I pick another up and it doesn't fall apart and I try to dip it in soy sauce but it all falls into the soy sauce and my mouth scrunches up when I eat the sushi so the next piece I eat I eat without sushi and it doesn't fall apart at all and I love it._

_Mommy smiles and her hair is shiny and her eyes sparkle and Daddy isn't here and nobody cries and I smile and we laugh and it's the best day of my life and I love sushi and my Mommy so much._

Customers come and go; some tip well and others leave the mandatory 10%. I don't mind; tips have never made sense to me. Tips are meant to be rewards for good work and when tips are mandatory you can't tell whether or not you're doing a good job or if theirs room for improvement. I recognize most of our customers by now: men on their lunch hour or women stopping in for tea and eggrolls during their afternoon shopping. Some say hi and others nod, but the few strangers I do see avoid eye contact and keep to themselves.

Closing shop at the end of the day, I watch the rain that fell on and off throughout my shift patter to a stop and I exit the store. I run the distance home to make it back quicker and Pavel leaps into my arms at the doorway. All is well for now and I carry Pavel into the kitchen, handing him a to-go box filled with sushi that he holds in front of him like a newborn child.

The weekend begins in a similar manner as the week had, dull and beautifully average. I paint in Pavels room until his wolves are complete along with a few snowy trees and a blue sky on the ceiling. I work and bring home food and see my mother for an hour on Saturday. We have enough time to discuss the week I had and the patients she tended to before she fell on the couch and napped, Pavel cradled between her stomach and the couch back. Sunday morning I wake to find Pavel sleeping in the curve of my stomach, arm and leg draped over my side and a small puppy stuffed animal wrapped tightly in hand. Curious, I comb Pavels bangs back from his forehead and see what looks like dried tears shining from his cheeks. Almost immediately I hear snores from down the hall through my open door and my heart leaps into my throat before shoving itself back down and lodging in the pits of my stomach.

Father has returned.


End file.
